


Today and Hereafter

by Illiad_And_Oddity



Category: DRAMAtical Murder, 闇の末裔 | Yami No Matsuei | Descendants of Darkness
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Shinigami, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:02:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Illiad_And_Oddity/pseuds/Illiad_And_Oddity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku had given in.  Suicide was the coward's way out, and he had taken it.  As much pain as he was in, he regretted it.</p>
<p>Which was probably why he said yes to the job they offered him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Twenty minutes after he awoke from the red-tinted rage, Koujaku's mother died in his arms. Koujaku killed himself a few minutes after that.

His last conscious thought was of a little hand squeezing his, a childish voice telling him not to give in.

He had given in. Suicide was the coward's way out, and he had taken it. As much pain as he was in, he regretted it.

Which was probably why he said yes to the job they offered him.

~~~

Being a shinigami was odd. In essence, he had agreed to stay in limbo, no longer alive, but not _truly_ dead, either. He would help others find their rest. It seemed like a fair way to atone for his sins.

His body would heal from any damage done to it, but it would never age. It was, in fact, impossible to tell by looking how old a shinigami truly was. The oldest shinigami he worked with had died nearly a century ago at age 26, and the green-eyed waif of a teenaged boy who showed him around had been dead since before Koujaku was born.

"So should I call you 'senpai', then?" Koujaku asked.

"No," the boy said flatly, "Kurosaki-san is fine."

Koujaku called him senpai anyway. He got the feeling Kurosaki actually kind of liked it.

~~~

Shinigami didn't like to talk about their deaths. Only souls who had strong attachment to the world of the living were given the job, and in most cases that translated to sudden, violent deaths. But occasionally they would let details slip, because sometimes they needed to talk about it, painful as it was. And those would slip out at the strangest of times, like when Koujaku was braiding his coworker's long hair for her.

"The last thing I thought about was my friend," Koujaku said, "Not my mother, or... anything else that would have made sense, but a kid I haven't seen in years."

"It was something that had meaning to you. My last thought was 'I hope mother remembers to feed the cat.'"

Wakaba was nearing fifty years old, but she had died at fourteen, and was patient with Koujaku's instincts to treat her like a younger sister. He sometimes suspected that she was subtly mothering him, though.

"I killed myself," Koujaku confessed. It wasn't exactly a secret, but he didn't talk openly about it either. "I wish I hadn't done it."

"I know." She squeezed his arm in gentle sympathy. "You'll be okay. It may take a long time, but you'll be okay in the end."

~~~

Shinigami were supposed to work in pairs, but Koujaku didn't really have a partner, or assignments of his own. For the first year, he would get sent along with other teams as they worked, and he learned the ropes. How to identify ghosts, how to scribe fuda, how to use his new powers, and most importantly, how to react to people who treated him as a person, not the illegitimate heir to a crime syndicate.

He had sort of believed that he'd be the free-floating new kid forever, so when he was told he was getting a permanent assignment, he was surprised. He was even more surprised when he saw where the assignment would be.

"Midorijima?"

"Yes. You know it?"

"I lived there for a few years when I was a kid. It was --" he cut himself off from saying 'the best time of my life' -- "It was a quiet place. Why does it need its own shinigami?"

As it turned out, there had been a very high number of incidents in Midorijima specifically since the completion of Platinum Jail, and the number had been slowly increasing. The politics of the living weren't really their business, but there was good evidence that something supernatural was going on within Toue Inc., and they needed a shinigami on the island to keep an eye on things, investigate, and report back if the situation bloomed into one the Judgment Bureau needed to step in on. As it was technically within sector 2, only one shinigami would be sent, overseen by the team that worked Kyushu.

And so Koujaku was going home.

~~~

Returning to Midorijima was a relief for Koujaku's soul in a way that nothing else had been since his death. It wasn't quite like coming home – he was still separate, not allowed to interact with the living unless they were directly related to a case he was involved with, no one could even see or touch him unless he made a conscious effort to be visible and tangible to them – but it was still the place where he had been happy before.

Which made the taint hanging over the island all the worse. Rage spirits, fixated ghosts, those were expected and not unusual, since the building of Platinum Jail had disturbed many graves. He soothed them the way he'd been taught when he could, subdued them where he couldn't, and sent them on. It did little to abate the terrible sense of sickness and unease that clung to Midorijima like a miasma. As he had been told, it was worst in Platinum Jail, although none of the people inside showed any signs of noticing something was amiss. They were happy, carefree in a way that Koujaku was certain was unnatural, if only because their good moods never seemed to abate.

The Old Resident District was better. While on the surface it seemed worse, with the constant gang fights and trash on the streets and impoverished population, their emotions, good or bad, were all _genuine._ After three fruitless weeks trying to investigate Platinum Jail in between dealing with spirits, the Old Resident District was a breath of fresh air.

Seeing Aoba was a shock. Koujaku almost didn't recognize him at first, he had grown so much. He no longer looked like a girl, though his hair was still long. Koujaku wondered if it was still sensitive to touch, and had to stop himself from reaching out to check.

He hadn't expected the intensity of _longing_ he felt upon seeing Aoba. He missed him, and he missed that simpler time when all his problems would melt away when that little boy clutched his hand and said "Don't give in."

That was probably why Koujaku found himself that night standing on Aoba's veranda, watching him sleep. He'd followed him all day, seeing how Aoba had changed. He didn't cry so easily now, and there was a sharp and angry edge to his personality that hadn't been there before. He seemed to have a few friends, but had spent more time talking with his Allmate than any human being today.

"Well, you aren't being creepy at all," a voice said from behind him.

Koujaku jumped, and whirled to face Kurosaki, who was leaning against the railing looking unimpressed. But then again, 'unimpressed' was his default expression.

"Senpai," Koujaku greeted, "I wasn't – he was a friend of mine when I lived here."

At his fellow shinigami's flat look, he flushed, looking down at his feet, "Okay, I guess I was being a little creepy. I just... wanted to know how he was doing. He's so different now. He's lonely, and angry... and I wonder if that's because I left."

Kurosaki shrugged, "Maybe. Or maybe he's angry because he's a teenager. Either way, you should have been back to give your report to the Chief, instead of standing here sighing over a kid."

Koujaku flushed, embarrassed at the chastisement. He was usually a very diligent worker. He actually liked his job – being a shinigami wasn't easy, but it gave him a sense of purpose, and the opportunity to do some good after he had committed so many sins. It wasn't like him to get distracted, but work had gone right out of his head the minute he saw Aoba. He looked up at Kurosaki sheepishly.

“Sorry.”

Kurosaki softened, "You're not the only shinigami to keep an eye on your loved ones. Just don't skip work to do it. Tsuzuki is enough of a slacker for the whole department."

Koujaku grinned, "Right. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

With a last, lingering look at Aoba, he turned and followed Kurosaki. He wouldn't forget his job again, but he would definitely keep an eye on Aoba whenever he had the chance.

"Goodnight," he whispered.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thank you for helping me, Shinigami-san."

Koujaku had been in a foul mood all day. Honestly, he'd been in a foul mood all week – all month, really. It had been hard case after hard case this summer, culminating in three days ago, when he'd had to find the ghost of a seven year old, murdered by his mother's boyfriend.

The bastard was still alive, comforting the boy's mother as she frantically searched for her 'missing' son. Koujaku burned at the injustice of it. He'd found the boy's soul, and that was as far as his job went. Finding and catching the murderer was the job of the living, not shinigami. That had happened far too many times in the last decade for his liking.

"Hey, either calm down or leave the office for a bit," Kurosaki said from his desk, "Your agitation is leaking all over the place."

Agitation was a mild word for it. Koujaku took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn't really help.

"It's my birthday today," he said, "Did you know that, senpai?"

Understanding flitted over Kurosaki's face. "I'd forgotten. You're twenty-six now, right?"

"Yeah."

In another few weeks, it would be ten years since he had killed himself. Ten years since he had murdered his mother. Ten years since he'd become a shinigami. Ten years of helping ghosts to their final rest, while being unable to find his own. Ten years of watching over Midorijima without really being a part of it.

Ten years of the exact same face looking back at him from the mirror. The tattoos had stayed, but the injuries he'd died with hadn't even left scars. His face was still young, but he felt old inside.

"I look the same," Koujaku said, "I've experienced so much and changed so much, but I still look exactly the same as I did when I died. It's... frustrating. I'm different, but there's nothing to show it."

"I understand," Kurosaki said. He probably did. After all, Kurosaki had died young, too. He was over forty now, wasn't he?

Koujaku sighed, and dropped his head onto the desk, "Sorry. It's been a hard summer. And that poor kid last week... just... it's not the first time I've been frustrated. I _know_ who's responsible, and there's nothing I can do because he wasn't supernatural, he's just a psycho.”

Kurosaki nodded, “Sometimes the ordinary cases can be the worst.”

“Yeah,” Koujaku said, “My birthday just kind of... drove the point home, I guess? That there's still a lot of things I can't do."

Kurosaki nodded sympathetically, "Everyone feels it sometimes. If..." he hesitated, then continued, "If you want to get out of the office for a while, I'll tell Tatsumi that you're doing something useful on Midorijima."

Koujaku let out a surprised laugh, "You'll cover for me skipping work?! I guess you really do like me better than Tsuzuki!"

That was total bullshit. Kurosaki loved his partner more than anything, it was plain to anyone who had eyes. But he was definitely nicer to Koujaku most of the time. Maybe he was flattered that Koujaku still called him 'senpai'.

"Tsuzuki skips work because he's lazy," Kurosaki said, "But when someone really needs a day to themselves, I can tell. You can go check on that kid."

"He's twenty-two now, hardly a kid anymore.” Koujaku said. He looked down at his desk with a blush, “I'm that predictable, huh?”

Kurosaki nodded, "It's what you do every time you're upset. But I've definitely seen worse ways to cope."

Koujaku let out a huge sigh, and got to his feet, "Thank you, senpai. I'll be on Midorijima if you need me. And I'll try to get _something_ useful done, so you won't have to lie to anyone."

Kurosaki waved him off, “It doesn't really matter. Just go clear your head.”

And because leaving on that note just felt too unnatural, Koujaku grinned widely and said, “Don't worry, senpai! I won't tell Tsuzuki-san that he's not your favorite person anymore!”

“Get out!” Kurosaki yelled, chucking a pen at his head, “You brat!”

Koujaku laughed and shut the office door behind him.

~~~

He only looked in on Aoba briefly when he arrived on Midorijima. He was fine, helping a customer at work, and Koujaku didn't think that standing around looking longingly at his old friend would do anything to improve his mood.

He had promised to at least try to do something productive, so he headed for Platinum Jail to look for any ghosts whose case files might not have hit his desk yet. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary on the streets filled with revelers, so after three hours of aimless wandering, he headed towards Oval Tower itself.

Oval Tower was strange. Being inside of it made him feel anxious, almost sick. He was sure that Toue had done some kind of warding against the supernatural, because every time he stepped inside the tower he felt itchy, like something was moving under his skin. It wasn't unbearable, but it was unpleasant, and so he tended to avoid the Tower if he had no reason to be there.

The bottom fifteen floors of the tower were office space. Nothing too exciting there, just rows and rows of office drones going about their day-to-day work. Above that, though, the Tower started to get interesting. This was where the experiments took place, where the robots were built, and where many of the unfortunate specimens died.

Koujaku had just stepped into the hallway when he heard a cry. It wasn't loud, but it cut right through him. Someone was in pain.

Against his better judgment, he entered the room where the noise had come from. Four researchers were standing around a machine wired to an examination table, on which a frail-looking body was laying. The boy – he didn't look like he could possibly be more than a teenager – was pale and thin, and small tremors wracked his body. Several wires were attached to his skin, mostly around his head and chest.

"He's connected," one of the researchers said, "Start it."

One of the men pressed a few keys on the machine, and the boy on the table seized, his mouth falling open in a pained gasp.

Koujaku's fists clenched. This was sickening, and there was nothing he could do about it. He wasn't allowed to interfere...

_Well, fuck that._ The rules had kept him helpless through too many injustices, and no reprimands from the Chief, or even Enma himself, could possibly be as bad as standing here watching this poor boy being tortured and doing nothing.

He reached into the machine and, with a little focus, made his hand corporeal enough to mess with the wiring and microchips inside. It was a trick that not all shinigami could pull off, but Koujaku had a knack for holding himself in between two states of being. The machine shorted, the screen went dark. Koujaku pulled his hand out of the machine as the researchers gathered around it.

"What happened?"

"I'm not sure, it just went down."

Koujaku turned his attention to the boy on the exam table, who was taking deep breaths and looked relieved. He looked at Koujaku, and focused on him, making Koujaku jump in surprise. The boy could see him? Was he a psychic of some kind?

His mouth moved. No sound came out, but it was clear he had just said ' _thank you_.'

"Damn it," one researcher said, having opened up the machine, "It's shorted out. Look at this!" He heaved a heavy sigh and looked over at the boy, "We may as well take him back to his room, we're obviously not having a test today."

Koujaku followed them when they unhooked the boy from the machine and took him to the elevator. To his surprise, they went up instead of down, all the way to the top floor. The room they brought him to wasn't a cell, but a brightly colored and pleasantly decorated room. It looked kind of like a child's bedroom, actually, with the number of toys scattered around. It was nothing like where Toue kept other specimens. Who was this boy?

“Who are you?” the boy asked. His voice was very soft, but pleasant.

“So you can see me,” Koujaku said. The boy hadn't acknowledged him at all on the way up, to the point where Koujaku had begun to wonder if the boy had really seen him at all.

“They didn't seem to see you, so I'd wondered if I was just dreaming you up, imagining a person when there wasn't one. But if you're real, then I suppose the question is 'what are you?'”

“I...” Koujaku hesitated. Well, he'd already broken the rules by helping at all, there was no reason not to tell him the truth. “I'm a shinigami.”

“Shinigami?” the boy echoed. His face fell and his eyes closed in sad acceptance, “Oh. I shouldn't be surprised, I know my body is weak. But still... I had hoped to live long enough to meet him.”

“No, no, you've got it all wrong!” Koujaku said quickly, “I'm not here to collect you! I really shouldn't have interfered at all, but I could tell you were in pain and I wanted to help.” He hesitated for a moment, then sat down on the chair by the bed. “I don't know when you're due to die, but it's not today, okay?”

“I see. Thank you for helping me then, Shinigami-san.”

Koujaku laughed, “My name is Koujaku.”

“My name is Sei.”

“Sei. It's nice to meet you. Um... may I ask you some questions?”

Sei nodded.

He'd never before had a chance to talk with a living person who was a specimen in Oval Tower. By the time they had become ghosts, most of the people who died had forgotten the details of their stay in the tower.

“What were they doing to you down there?” Koujaku asked.

“I believe it was a form of electroconvulsive stimulation.”

Koujaku blinked, and nodded slowly, trying to pretend he had some idea what that was. “Er, why were they doing it, though?”

“To enhance my powers,” Sei said, “I can affect about a hundred people at once. Toue wants me to be able to do much more than that.”

"What exactly _is_ your power?" Koujaku asked.

"It's called Scrap."


End file.
